War Stories
by ZeeMastermind
Summary: Captain Cold recounts an old story from when he and the Flash were fresh on the streets, and other Rogue War Stories. Rated T for violence and swearing.
1. Evening the Score

"Freeze!" I'm not sure if it was me or the rent-a-cop who shouted that. Probably the cop, my puns were much worse.

I was Captain Cold, fresh to the gear but not to crime. I knew the bank routine, and I knew how to shoot. A windbreaker and a cryo-gun weren't a big change.

It was all about the rep back then. Anything to distinguish myself. Back before the Rogues, I was after respect more than anything else. I've overcome this flaw, other than a few missteps, but…

Before the bank's rent-a-cop could decide to either shoot or flee, big red's fist smacked into my skull at what felt like just under the speed of sound. His aura thing prevents any lethal damage, at least at relatively low speeds, but it still hurt like Hell.

The Flash, 'defender' of the Gem Cities and symbol of 'hope,' saw it as his job to stop me from liberating loot from the bank. I didn't remember what the bank's name was. But even now, I still remember the camera layout, the rent-a-cop's schedule, and the manufacturer of the safes. It's an asset.

The score that week was three to two, my favor. It was a pretty good week, but that early in our careers, luck was a bigger factor than skill. Not to disrespect the Lady, of course, but it's much more satisfying when the Flash slipped on my ice than tripped on the curb.

The hit knocked me on my ass, and I dropped at least two fillings. Now, you'd think that the score would be even now, but despite Flash's speed, it takes a bit longer than that to take down the Captain.

Flash found himself slowed after that initial hit. He hadn't moved after it, and found his body temperature cooling. Even I was surprised at how fast it dropped. I hadn't figured out just how conductive his suit was, and wouldn't until a few weeks later, during Marco's debut.

Before I made my presence known in the bank, I'd discharged my weapon around me. A special chemical compound, to react to speeds faster than one hundred miles per hour. Whether it was a speedster or bullet, it didn't matter, as long as it stopped.

Evidently, the Flash was still too fast to stop completely. We were about to have one of those rare battles, where it was possible for me to land a hit in hand-to-hand. I wouldn't have another of those for years.

I rose to my feet, "Heh. Most people assume cold's a force. But it's really just the absence of-"

"-kinetic energy, yeah," said the Flash. He'd overcome the shock of slowing down, and was back to human speeds, "Cut the crap and fight."

That one threw me. I hadn't pictured Flash as the intelligent type, but I suppose with his power he didn't need to show it. A bit odd that he had chemistry knowledge, of all things. Whatever, his education wasn't my problem.

I leveled my gun at his chest, now back to the usual charges, and fired. He dodged out of the way, and I barely had enough time to deflect a right cross. He was up to double human speeds, but I was still the better brawler.

I kicked at his knee, and heard a crack. That was definitely a lasting injury, considering his viciousness in battles later in the month.

However, at this point his energy had recovered back to normal, and he launched into a barrage of hits at me. I went down easy, knocked out.

The score was even, and I had ideas for the next game.


	2. Coat of Glory

It was a glorious trench coat, sitting in the window like a bride's gown. My first day in the Twin Cities, the city chosen as it was the first flight away from family. I just had to go and do my own thing.

A nice trim, yellow was always my favorite color. The long sleeves wouldn't get too much in the way of what I was planning. Despite all, I didn't want to get in too deep.

Course; given our track record, you can see how that panned out.

I checked my wallet. Still had under a few grand left. I checked the price tag on the coat. Five hundred dollars. Even without knowing it was a Gambi, I knew it was worth it.

Stepping into the shop, it wasn't what I expected. Lots of party costumes, war gear. All marked up at top prices. Even new in the States, I understood the value of a dollar.

At the counter, The Aussie was arguing with a balding man about a scarf price. I guess Digger wasn't used to the price of quality yet, either. He eventually gave in, and was a bit surprised to see me, a quiet foreigner, just standing in the doorway.

"Ye' sure yer s'posed to be'n here?" he asked. He was a bit defensive more than hostile. Covering his own ass, as usual, "Isn't a costume shop."

It was at this point I realized I was in the right place. Thought I'd be all subtle, going into some department store for the costume. Of all places to end up in, I selected 'Villains R Us.' No disrespect to the Tailor, of course, but imagine my hesitation.

I had none. "Yes. Are you?"

He relaxed a bit, as naïve as I was, "That's a good question, mate. Ne'er been the melodra- stupid type myself, just in't for yours truly."

It was at this point I recognized him, "Oh, you're the Boomerang guy."

"Damn straight."

"Heh. I've been thinking of mixing it up here in the United States myself."

"Hm, didn't think that was an American accent. Where you from, kid?"

"Guatemala. And it's Marco Mar- Marco." I remembered my goal to make a name for myself, not live on my family's laurels.

"Mark, huh? 'm from Australia myself. Name's George, call me Digger."

"Any advice for 'fresh meat?'"

"Well, ye've got the lack of arr'gance down pat. What's yer weapon?"

"Weather."

"A ranged fighter, too? Good. Don't bother t'mix it up in melee wit Flasher, d'n't work. Oh, and cut the nice."

"…nice?"

"Yeh. Ye've been be'in' far too nice to the competition. The game's about the dest'nation, not the journey. Or sum ass-shit like that."

"Ah- oh."

"Either way, I'd say Friday would be best for startin' out."

"Why Friday?"

"Was plannin' sumtin, wouldn't mind the Flash getting' distracted by young blood."

"Hey, now…"

"Tell ya what, you manage to succeed in a job on Friday, I'll intr'duce yeh to one o' my drinkin' mates, who'll set yeh straight on how to go about sparrin' t'Flasher."

"Ok… where?"

" 'Keystone Saloon.' 'S Charles's pub in t'Keys, can't miss"

"I'll be there Saturday."

I ended up making a getaway that time, no loot, but Boomer got shipped off to Belle Reve. Still got to meet Cold and the rest of the guys. I still have that trench coat, but the glory's become all my own.


	3. Squat

The Keystone Saloon wasn't the first time I saw under Red's cowl. Shortly after the Rogues' first failed adventure, I'd holed up at the warehouse on East Wash. Unlike common superstition, most warehouses aren't abandoned, the owners only check in once in a while.

Apparently, the owner had checked in recently. Must've found some clue towards me squatting here, as three police officers were scouring the warehouse. Probably didn't expect any action, they looked more like the academic type. CSI, then.

It would have been easier to clear out if I had recovered all my gear. I decided to stick to the shadows, wait for an opportunity to freeze them before they realized who the squatter was.

"Allen, what're you looking at?" One of the officers there had picked up a cold-box. Sucked the energy out of the air, looked inconspicuous. The Flash had run across it in our last fight, and by the looks of things, had told the cops about them.

"…Nothing. Let's just keep looking." I guess not. The blonde set down the box.

The chick who had talked to him just rolled her eyes and continued searching, writing him off as a ditz. But by the look on "Allen's" face, it wasn't just "nothing." So the Flash told this guy about me, but not the others? Now that's interesting.

Personally, I wasn't after Flash's identity or loved ones, really, but if it's dangled in front of my face like that, I'll bite.

Allen was on full-guard now. "Maybe the search would go faster if we split up?"

"You sure about that, Barry?" said the third officer.

"Yeah, Mr. Brubacker said it was only one squatter, anyways. We should be fine."

"Just call if anything goes wrong," said the girl, a bit concerned.

I'd be too if someone figured out there was a supervillain (Even one like me) in the area, and decided splitting up was the best option. I hoped he wasn't planning on martyring it; it was still somewhat difficult at that point to freeze normals without killing, but it was plausible.

Of course, when he switched into his costume after turning the corner, my curiosity was sated. I left the warehouse as quietly as possible as he searched it; I could always make new gear.

I made sure to forget this incident, and it wasn't for another few years until I had to dislodge the memory again.


	4. FOR THE CHILDREN

Never expected to see those two punks ripping off of a charity. Thought I'd cash in, to steal from the poor and give to myself and all that shit, but evidently Tantrum and Joykill were looking out for themselves.

Course, y'all all remember that shit. The great Trickster (And the thermodynamic duo: Cap'n Cold and Heatwave) faces off against the Flash. FOR THE FUCKING CHILDREN.

Honestly, a bunch of rich people throwing money at problems for the good of society didn't seem opportune for anyone except those in need of a new gaming rig. Like yours truly!

Anyways, Flasher took offense to the upgrading of my Alienware. Tried catching him up with a few springs. It worked at first (He's kinda dull), but then they didn't (He's not that dull).

Course, I was able to make my great escape when Cold and Heatwave got into a tiff which blew up the walls a bit.

"And that is how I was able to get this lovely computer system," Trickster finished.

Hartley Rathaway was aghast, "Look, Axel-"

"Trickster! If you're serious about this reform thing-"

"I am!"

"Heh, right. Anyways, you need to dehumanize the Rogues, like superheroes do."

"That's not what Flash- oh, whatever. I just came here to pick up those CD's you borrowed."

"Yeah, I sold those to pay for the monitor."

"Lovely. So I essentially paid for the entire thing?"

"Wha- You donated your loot to charity?"

"Yes, and I'm _so glad_ that it ended up in the 'Axel Gaming Addiction' fund."

"Well, I certainly am."

"Gah. I got to go."

"Hot date?"

"No! Shut up…"

"Ha! You totally do have one."

"No, I don't. Well, it might be, but that's none of your business."

"Oh right, the whole 'supervillain captures the damsel in distress' thing. Although, not a damsel in your case…"

"You're infuriating."

"Infuri… what?"

Hartley Rathaway, AKA the Pied Piper, now a superhero, slammed the door on the Trickster's apartment.


End file.
